My Husband is Sexy

The best thing happened tonight, you guys.

The mother in law took Blake for the night. Do you know what that means?

No, you perverts.

It means that I can crack open a bottle of wine, sit in front of the computer and tweet, blog and catch up on the millions of posts in Google Reader without a mini Ken screaming for food and attention and chit.

Who has time for that?

Before I go on with this story, I need to warn you of something: My husband is incredibly sexy. By the time you’re finished reading this post, you’re going to be so jealous that I found him first.

Back off, whores. He’s mine.

I had just started my Saturday night ritual of wine and Twitter when Ken came in my office and sat on the couch.

Ken: What are you doing?

Me: Trying to get #CharlieSheensPenis to trend on Twitter. You?

Ken: Sounds exciting. I’m going down to work on my car.

Pfffttttttttt

Me: What was that?

Ken (looking guilty): What?

Me: DID YOU FART IN MY OFFICE?

Ken: Is Bridget coming over tonight?

Me: Don’t change the subject! DID. YOU. FART. IN MY OFFICE!?

Ken: No! I mean, yes. It was a little one.

Who here is married? OK, so you know “It was a little one” really means “I think something crawled up my ass and died”, right?

Seriously, you guys. It was one of those rotten egg ones. Totally disgusting.

Ken: What?! It doesn’t stink…. that bad!

Me (frantically typing on Twitter): GET OUT OF HERE! You seriously stink! What died in your ass?!

Ken (trying to hold back laughter): Nothing! Nothing crawled up my ass and died! I think…. I think I ate something!

Me: WTF did you eat?! Seriously! Get out of here!

Ken: IT DOESN’T SMELL THAT BAD!

Me (frantically typing on Twitter): You are so disgusting!!!

Me: I’m serious! Your ass is so disgusting! I need to find a candle or something!

At this point, I’m offended. Like, way offended. All I want is my wine and my Twitter, and Stinky Ass (formally known as March Madness Guy) has to come in here and funk up my office. So, I do what any Twitter addict would do in such an emergency: I run to the diaper genie (because, let’s face it… that thing STINKS) and grab the Febreze, which is sitting next to said diaper genie.

Citrus combined with ass is only one notch down from straight up ass. It’s not the best but it’s better than nothing. So I unloaded a half a can of citrus & light scented Febreze in my office.

Ken (wandering in with his stinky ass): Did you spray Febreze in here?

Me (typing frantically on Twitter): GET YOUR STANK ASS OUT OF HERE!

Ken: Fine! I’m going down to my shop!

Me: GOOD. Don’t come back until you pull that dead thing out of your stinky ass.

See? I knew you’d be jealous. Don’t everyone bust down the door at once.